Behind the Lies
by TrueBeliever831
Summary: She broke his heart. Seven years later - she witnesses the murder of a undercover agent. When she is placed in protective custody, they meet again. How will they cope with the memories of their past and will they be able to work together to bring down a murderer and - more importantly - keep her alive.
1. heartache

**[disclaimer] **I'm not making my living as a writer, _yet._

* * *

**Behind the Lies**  
I. heartache.

* * *

_The sun beat down on his back as he closed the door to shed. His eyes fell on the blonde beside the pool. She had an open magazine spread across her lap and a large glass of ice tea in her hand. Her large hat was pulled down to tops of her over-sized sunglasses. He leaned against the cool wooden doors and crossed his arms. She was simply __**beautiful. **__No one could deny it. _

_The French doors opened and her father stepped out onto the patio. "Darling, I'm going to the office. I'll be back in a few hours." _

"_Alright," the word rolled off of her tongue with that __**intoxicating **__accent. He heard the doors close – the signal that his boss had left for work. He seized the skimmer for the pool and strode over to the blonde – his mind a haze. _

_He had never felt so insecure in his life. He raked his fingers through his hair. He had been planning this moment for months. Maybe he had even began planning the moment he meant her but, one thing was certain – he couldn't torture himself any longer. _

"_Hey, Maryse," He sat the pool skimmer down and eyed the blonde nervously. _

_She looked up from her magazine briefly and nodded, "Hey," She lowered her sunglasses and eyed him curiously. "Do you need something?" _

_He nodded; his nerves were getting the better of him. He rubbed the back of his neck, "well, actually I have something I need to ask you." _

"_Alright, I'm all ears." She closed her magazine, resting her hand atop of it. She focused her gaze on him. _

_His heart beat quickened. He did his best to ignore it. He averted his gaze to the ground, momentarily. He inhaled deeply, mustering up the courage to meet her gaze again. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime." The question rolled off of his tongue like it was the simplest thing in the world – yet, he felt like he had just accomplished some great feat. _

_For once the overly-confident French-Canadian looked __**uncomfortable. **__"Uhm," She paused, clearly trying to put together an adequate response. She looked at him and he saw __**pity **__and __**guilt **__in her eyes and that's when he realized just what was coming, "I'm sorry Dean. I can't." _

_He had never known heartache until that moment._

* * *

**-[x]-**

* * *

Maryse Ouellet dropped her collection of shopping bags and closed the doors behind her. "Baby, I'm home," She called after her fiancé. Her heels clicked against the Cyprus floors as she searched the home for Alberto.

She checked the kitchen, but it was neat and tidy. The cook had not begun cooking supper yet and no noise came from the backyard. She glanced through the large window above the sink, but found the garden empty. She left the kitchen, switching off the light and checked the den. It too was empty.

She was about to ascend the stairs when she heard the sound of muffled voices. She doubled back and stood in front of the door to the basement. She pressed her ear against the door, _more voices. _

She turned the handle and began the descent down the wooden stairs – leaving her heels at the entryway, to prevent tripping. She held onto the rail and listened for the sound of her fiance's voice.

"Tell me what he knows." Alberto growled. It was a tone that Maryse was unfamiliar with and it caused her to shiver. He was passionate, but rarely prone to anger.

"He's a cop. He's probably told them everything." Another male voice responded.

Maryse crouched down and peered into the dimly lit basement. Alberto was wearing an expensive suit and his black hair was slicked back stylishly. It was clear that he had just returned from work. He was talking to another – larger – man in a black suit. He was bald and scowling, his arms crossed in front of his body in a way that said 'I mean business, so don't mess with me.'

She turned her gaze to the other side of the room and covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. A man sat in the far corner, his arms tied behind his back, his feet tied to the chair and his mouth gagged. The gag was bloody, his eyes swollen and dark, and his cheeks were cut and bruised. He watched Alberto and the tough-looking man talk. He struggled with his ties, his cries muffled by the sound of the gag.

Alberto turned to the man and smiled. It was a dark smile, cold and ruthless, that made her feel chilled to the bone. She watched as Alberto raised his hand and brought it down across the captive's face. Alberto yelled something in Spanish, that Maryse did not understand, before ripping the gag off of the man's mouth.

"Tell me what you told them." Alberto ordered.

The man said nothing. He glared at Alberto, his lips set in a firm line.

"Tell me now!"

He still said nothing.

Alberto sighed, "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, Miguel." Alberto undid the button on his suit jacket and reached into his pocket. Miguel's gaze followed his movements, but he still said nothing.

Maryse watched, terrified, as her fiancé, the man that she _loved, _pulled out a handgun. Alberto pointed the gun at the man's face and smiled. A wave of nausea swept over her as she watched. He actually _smiled, _"Now, I think you have something you need to tell me."

The man sat, motionless. His face did not show fear, only hatred. He shook his head, "I have nothing to tell you."

Maryse wanted to close her eyes, wanted to turn and run, but she was frozen with fear. She heard the click as he cocked the gun. She heard the mumbled words of her fiancé before he pulled the trigger, an unrecognizable haze. She saw the spray of blood, the man's body fell limp, and the look of apathy on Alberto's face as he turned to the man behind him.

"Get rid of his body," Alberto said. "My fiancé will be home soon and she cannot know of this."

Realization washed over her. He didn't know she was there. She had to get out of there before he noticed her. She rose, quickly and quietly, her mind reeling. She silently made her way up the stairs and collected her shoes.

She ran to the door and collected her bags. She grabbed her keys off of the stand and slid her shoes back on. She darted out of the house and slid into her silver Lexus. She threw her bags onto the passenger seat before jamming the keys into the ignition. She started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

She drove, her mind racing. Her heart rate slowly returned to normal. She wanted to believe that it was all just a nightmare, but she knew she was wrong. This was worse that any nightmare her mind could create. Alberto was always so kind, attentive, loving. He couldn't be a murder.

But she couldn't deny what she had just witnessed.

Tears clouded her vision and she wiped them away roughly. She needed to focus. She needed to _think. _She knew in her heart what she should do. She knew that she should go the police, but it wasn't that easy. She _loved _Alberto. They were going to be married, have a family, live a life together.

_Can you marry a monster? _Her mind bit back at her and she slammed her palm against the wheel. No, she couldn't, but that didn't mean she didn't _love _him.

She drove, the backdrop of trees, grassy gardens and sparkling water were little comfort to her in her present state. She pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting the urge to be sick as the image of the dead man flashed before her eyes. _Miguel. _

He probably had a family, a wife or a girlfriend. Maybe he even had kids. His parents might be looking for him. Maybe he was an only parent or an only child. _Somewhere there was a family missing him, _her mind told her.

She knew what she had to do. She bit her lip and turned the wheel, heading in the direction of the city. She drove in silence, the sound of the gun shot rang in her ears. Images flashed before her mind: the dead man, his beaten face, the blood on the walls, _the look on Alberto's face after he __**killed **__a man. _That look would haunt her dreams forever.

She pulled into the police station parking lot, collected her purse and got out of the car. She locked the doors and quickly went inside.

A woman with tight black curls sat behind the desk, typing on a computer. She looked up when Maryse entered, "Can I help you, ma'am."

Maryse nodded, fighting the urge to turn around and run. "Yes, please. I've witnessed a murder."

* * *

**-[x]-**

* * *

An hour and a half later, Maryse sat alone in a small room. She tapped her nails on the wooden table in front of her and glanced at the clock. She had already relayed her story to a detective and filled out a witness statement. The detective had then told her to wait for him to return. She could not imagine why she was being left alone in the room. Did they not believe her story? Were they going to arrest Alberto while she was still at the station?

She was pulled from her reverie by the creaking of the old wooden door behind her as it opened. The detective was followed by another man in a black suit. The detective sat in the chair across from her, adjusted his tie and sighed. "Well, Miss Ouellet… you have really found yourself in a mess."

"Obviously," Maryse retorted, annoyed after being left alone with no clue of the goings-on. "Why was I left in here?"

"Because Miss Ouellet, your fiancé's name sounded familiar and it's a damn good thing I made you wait while I checked. Your fiancé was under investigation by the DEA."

Maryse stared in shock as the detective dropped a thick file on the table. "Why?" She was truly shocked.

Her reaction seemed to please the detective because he nodded to the man in the suit before continuing. "Miss Ouellet, Mr. Del Rio is a suspected Drug kingpin. We have been keeping tabs on him for nearly two years now. Long before you two became engaged. It turns out that the man that you saw killed tonight was agent Lucian De Loucroux. He was working undercover on the case."

Maryse closed her eyes. No way. It was not possible. Alberto could not be what these men were claiming he was. He could not be a _criminal. _

_Twenty four hours ago you wouldn't think he could kill a man either, _her mind reminded her.

"Miss Ouellet. It is important that we are able to make an arrest on Del Rio; however, without the testimony of Agent De Loucroux it will be difficult to get a conviction." The detective folded his hands and leaned closer to her, his gaze fixated upon her. "Mr. Del Rio is a dangerous man. He is suspected of many murders and other serious crimes. I know this is difficult for you, Miss Ouellet, but we need you to testify against your fiancé."

Maryse ran her fingers through hair. Could she do that to Alberto – the man who had shown her nothing but love for the last nineteen months, the man that had given her everything, the man that she had grown to _love? _

_The man who killed someone right before her eyes and showed no emotion, no empathy, no __**remorse.**_

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She nodded her head, "I have to. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I watched a man died and did nothing to have his killer brought to justice."

The detective smiled and touched her hand, "You're a good person." He assured her. His blue eyes found hers and she knew that he meant it. She mumbled her gratitude and he smiled. "Well will make sure you are safe until the trial, Miss Ouellet."

"What do you mean?"

"You cannot return home. If he finds out that you have been here you will be in serious danger," the man in the suit spoke for the first time. "Del Rio has eyes and ears all over this city. I'm certain he already knows you are here. You will have to be placed in a protection program."

"What, I don't want to leave. This is my _home." _

"We understand that, we do," the cop spoke, his voice compassionate. "But we are talking about your life. Let us keep you safe."

Maryse sighed,she knew that the detective was right, but she didn't like the idea of giving up her luxurious life in the Hamptons. "Fine, but you better not stick me in some dilapidated shack somewhere." She crossed her arms over her chest and the detective chuckled.

"We'll do the best we can, Miss Ouellet. We have a Marshall who is ready to meet with you." The detective rose from his chair. "He will be in in a moment, do you need a drink or anything."

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

The detective nodded and left, followed by the agent. Maryse sighed and let her head rest in her hands. She was sure she was losing her mind, giving up the comforts of her life, but Maryse had always been a person with high regard for morals and she knew she would never forgive herself if she did not do what was right.

She looked up when the door opened, ready to get on with the process before she changed her mind. The man closed the door behind him and turned to face her. When his eyes fell on her she gasped. She knew the man and her final memory of him was _not _a pleasant one.

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**Next chapter - **The Marshall stared at her, his body tense with discomfort. He averted his gaze to the floor and she felt of pang of regret as she watched him.

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**[an] **So this is my new story. It was originally going to be a Punk/Maryse story, but I felt like I had enough stories with Punk so I decided to try out a new pairing. I'm really excited about this story and I hope you guys enjoy it. It will be a romantic suspense. There will be lots of drama, funny things and bickering. I'll update as soon as I can. If you get the chance, let me know what you think. Besos! – Danie.


	2. for the sake of sanity

**[disclaimer] **still, not making my living as a writer.

* * *

**Behind The Lies**  
II. for the sake of sanity

* * *

_Dean followed Mr. Ouellet out of the office and into the hall. He lagged behind, admiring the beauty of the house. It never ceased to amaze him how extravagant some of the homes in the Hamptons were. He wasn't bitter, but he didn't understand how some people could have so much – while others were living on the streets. _

_Sometimes life was a hard pill to swallow. _

_He followed Mr. Ouellet – a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair - and more money than he probably knew what to do with – out into the yard. _

"_Your primary focus will be the front and back yards, the pool, and the pool house. I expect you will be a good tenant?" _

"_Of course, sir," the words rolled off his tongue like they were rehearsed. "I'll keep everything top notch." _

_The older man nodded, "then, I suppose you are hired." _

"_Thank you." _

"_However, I hold the right to revoke your employment at any time… you understand that correct?" _

_Dean merely nodded, his attention focused on the French doors the two men had just walked through. A slender blonde had stepped outside onto the patio. Her hair flowed down her back in lose curls. She held a cellphone up to her ear and was talking rapidly, half of her words in French, the other in English with a heavy accent. He smiled. _

"_I see you've noticed my daughter. I'll introduce you." Mr. Ouellet motioned for his daughter. She nodded and –after completing her phone call – she sauntered over. "Is something wrong, darling?"_

"_They ruined my dress. I told them they needed to fix it immediately. Can you imagine a week before the dance and they mess up the alterations." The blonde sighed heavily. She flipped some of her hair over her shoulder and turned her gaze to Dean, as if noticing him for the first time. _

"_I'm sorry, Maryse. I will make sure you have the perfect dress." Dean suppressed an eye-roll, forcing a grin as Mr. Ouellet motioned to him, "This is Dean, he will be taking care of the property. Dean, this is my daughter, Maryse." _

"_It's nice to meet you ma'am. If you need anything just let me know." He held out his hand to her, hoping for a handshake. _

_The blonde looked at his hand momentarily, and then took it, smiling for the first time since she had appeared on the patio – "Nice to meet you, Dean." _

_He smiled in return and nodded. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and she didn't seem like a** complete** bitch._

_Maybe this new job wouldn't be so bad after all._

* * *

**-[x]-**

* * *

_Maybe he wouldn't recognize her. It had been seven years after all! He probably couldn't even remember her name. He was probably married with a family by now – any memory of her long since forgotten in the joys of his everyday life_.

She looked at him and instantly realized she wasn't that lucky.

The Marshall stared at her, his body tense with discomfort. He averted his gaze to the floor and she felt a pang of regret as she watched him. It was a truly uncomfortable situation. The duo remained silent for what felt like an eternity. _This is ridiculous. It's been years there is no reason for all of this fuss. _Maryse looked at him and forced a smile, she was about to greet him, when he turned away.

She stared, in stunned silence as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

**-[x]-**

* * *

Dean burst into the chief's office, where his boss was discussing the case with the chief of police and two homicide detectives. "No. No, _hell _no." Dean said, ignoring the looks from the detectives and the chief as he rounded on his boss. "Hell will freeze over before I work with that woman." Dean pointed at the door.

"I'm sorry, Ambrose, is there an issue you would like to discuss with me?"

Dean sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "I can't work with her."

"And why not? She's a witness – you are just on her case."

"I _know _her. I – we," Dean sighed. "It wouldn't be a good idea."

"If I didn't think you were the right person for this case I would not have chosen you. Are you questioning my judgment?"

"No, sir. Of course not – it's just."

"It's just nothing. I need my best Marshall on this case. She is a witness in bringing down a very powerful drug lord. If something happens to Miss Ouellet we lose the first and most likely only witness leading to his arrest. I need _you _on this case, Ambrose. So whatever your problem with her is –get over it. Now, get your ass in that interview room and do your job."

Dean inhaled deeply, contemplating a retort, but he knew it was no use. It was take the case or probably suffer a demotion – or worse.

"Fine," Dean left the office before his boss could reply, slamming the door in his wake. He made his way back to the interrogation room – ignoring the stares from the beat cops. It had probably been a long time since they saw someone storm into the chief's office – if anyone had ever dared to do so in the first place.

Dean reached the door to the interrogation room – took one last, calming breath – and went inside.

She was still as beautiful as ever. Her blonde hair was pin-straight and longer than he remembered. She wore a black halter top and white knit dress slacks. She tapped her foot, her black open-toed heels making a rather annoying clicking noise on the tiled floors.

It was clear that she was as well-off as ever.

"I'm sorry, I had something I needed to discuss with my supervisor," Dean said, taking the seat across from her. He flipped open the file and pretended he was looking for her name.

"So, it's Miss Ouellet, correct?"

The blonde stared at him momentarily, as if she _knew _he was lying. He stared back, doing his best not to let his discomfort show. Finally she spoke, "Yes."

"I'm Deputy Marshall Dean Ambrose – I will be working your case from here on out." He flipped through the papers, "We will be moving you to a safe location out of the area. You will be using an alias until the day of the trial – you will not –"

The blonde held up a hand to cut him off, "I do not want to leave my home. I agreed to police protection, but this is where I have lived all of my life. I don't want to leave my friends and family."

"Well, Miss Ouellet, you do not have much of a choice. If you want to keep your friends and family safe then you will move to a safe location and cease contact with them until Del Rio is convicted."

Maryse scoffed, "There is a chance you might not catch him."

"Well, Miss Ouellet that is a chance you are going to have to take." He retorted, not bothering to look at her. He already knew the look, her brow furrowed, eyes dancing with anger, hers lips pursed – he had seen it too many times when he worked with her family.

"I will not stop talking to my family. I love them. I cannot cut all ties with them for the rest of my life," her voice rose, temper flaring. She slapped a palm down on the table and he glared at her, annoyed by her outburst.

"So you'd rather put your family in harm's way because you are too selfish to do what is best for them?" He didn't regret his words, even after noticing the flash of sorrow in her eyes. "If you stay in contact with them, they could be killed."

The blonde remained silent for a moment, tapping her fingernails on the table. "Fine," she finally stated. "But you better keep them safe." She crossed her arms over her chest, demonstrating her distaste for the current situation.

"Don't worry, Maryse. I will take good care of both you and your family." He said as he shuffled through the papers. "Okay, shall we begin?" He smirked. When she rolled her eyes but, didn't respond, he continued. "You will be moved to an alternate location and we will provide you with safe housing. We'll will provide you with an allowance until you are able to find employment. You will have a phone provided from us that will have my number programmed into it. I will be taking care of your case and if you have any problems or if you need anything you are to call me, no one else. Do you understand?" He looked up at her. She was leaning back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. Her lips were drawn in a thin line. It was clear she liked the situation about as much as he did.

"I understand."

"Good. Collect your things and I will get your phone and location information from my supervisor." He stood up and collected the files. He didn't look at her as he approached the door and pulled it open. Just as he was getting ready to shut it behind him he added, "We're leaving in ten minutes, be ready."

Once the door was shut, Dean leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, deciding that he needed a cigarette before enduring the car ride with Maryse. He reached into his coat pocket and made his way out of the back door. It was completely unnerving to him how someone he hadn't seen in seven years had the ability to stir up so much emotion in him.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag. There was one thing he knew for certain: the cops needed to catch Del Rio as soon as possible. His sanity depended on it.

* * *

**[an] **okay, that's it for chapter two. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. I have this story completely planned out so I will try to update regularly. Hopefully my schedule will allow it. I want to thank everyone who followed, added this to their favorites and left a review. I hope you continue to enjoy the story and your feedback is always welcome. xoxoBesos! Danie.


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